


(Unrequited) Interlude

by Coraleeveritas



Series: Apartment Block 13 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Ficlet, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: Jaime considers a few things and comes to a (not so) shocking realisation.





	(Unrequited) Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> So, I did have a plan on getting this series finished with a ficlet called 'one night' and this happened. For some reason I quite enjoy writing a sort of sad, sort of hopeful Jaime. I can only apologise as this barely pushes this story forward but finally I'm starting to feel comfortable writing again after all the block.
> 
> All mistakes belong to me but the characters do not.

Jaime had not imagined her apartment would look much different to his own, after all the unimaginatively built blocks of the complex always promised so little room for individuality from from the outside. And while the set up was much the same, the front room leading into an eat in kitchen with a decent sized bedroom hidden in the back, Brienne, it seemed, had done as much as she could to make this place feel like a home. The contrast to the magnolia box downstairs he merely ate and slept in was so sharp it made his chest hurt.

The rugs had been the first thing that caught his eye as she took his wine with a slow blooming smile that froze the second he pressed his lips to her cheek; thick and plush they covered huge sections of floor as if she was trying to muffle the sound of her footsteps across the dark, polished boards that lay beneath even before they'd met. He'd turned, a quip already forming on his tongue, but she was still standing like a statue in the doorway. Perhaps he shouldn't have listened to his brother's advice and left the suit gathering dust at the back of his closet instead, feeling the first creeping notes of discomfort surrounded by everything that looked like it had been found to be loved rather than simply bought in a store.

Like her dogs. Like the fluffy blue sweater she wore. Not like him with his fancy clothes and expensive wine, remnants of a life he was happily starting to lose touch with.

Sinking into the soft embrace of her plaid couch cushions, trying not to read into the many reasons why Brienne hadn't yet joined him, Jaime searched the room in the vein hope he'd find anything to focus on besides the unwanted, unbidden thought that his wonderful, stubborn, considerate friend would always be far too good for someone like him. Or when exactly he'd started to think of her as someone he needed to see at the end of his longest, most draining shifts like deserts desired the sweet kiss of rain.

He knew Tyrion would laugh, repeatedly, if and when he realised how poetically two coffees a week and the occasional stairway run in had twisted Jaime's thoughts. He'd also have pointed out that his big brother should have made more of an effort to notice, even if just once in a while, any of the nurses batting their eyelashes at him. Maybe that way his fantastically repetitive dreams wouldn't all have revolved around the blonde upstairs.

Tomorrow he'd return one of Pia's flirtatious glances Jaime promised himself halfheartedly as he made a fuss of the dogs who'd instantly recognised his now familiar scent, though the stilted, getting to know you conversations with every pretty girl he'd been set up with, bar the green eyed devil who had almost irreparably broken his heart, had grown tedious with time.

Time seemed to mock him regularly now, the slow march of silver along his temples and bearded jaw acting like harsh reminders that he was getting too old to change his solitary ways, however much he would have liked things to be different. But it was those pangs of melancholia that had brought him close to Brienne in the first place, today being allowed to take a seat in the centre of her sanctuary.

Pictures hung in neatly curated collections on three of the four walls currently around him; her friends and family beaming down from above the fireplace, large landscapes painting a vivid history of the best and worst of her home island's nautical past on the icy blue stretch behind him and what he could only assume were choice pieces from the most talented kids she used to teach to his left. The largest picture, of a single knight on a bloody, frozen field, tickled at memories Jaime would rather not be brought to the surface. Tales of The Long Night were his mother's favourites, spinning them into stories suitable for bedtime, the only hour of her day she truly set aside for her children before everything changed.

Jaime supposed that he would always remember the cold September day Joanna Lannister didn't come back from the hospital, the pain of that loss running in his blood like stripes through hard candy for too long a time, and just by looking up he doubted Brienne had forgotten the exact moment she lost her mother either. Even amongst the images of her small but perfectly formed family and those that were of college friends and work colleagues, it was easy to identify Laena Tarth from the spectacular dark blue eyes she'd passed onto her daughter.

And while it was no great surprise that her mother was the one taking pride of place in the photographic collage, when Jaime discovered his own image lurking to the side of a particularly charming snap showing a buck toothed little girl glaring from over the top of a giant sandcastle he couldn't help but scramble to his feet for a closer look. It wasn't anything special, an unexpected shot of them from the evening they'd spent together at the residents' carnival of all things, but it was the thought that counted and the thought that he belonged with Brienne's nearest and dearest had him calling out to her cheekily. He wasn't quite ready to accept that even when they weren't arguing, she'd been the first person in years to hold his interest for long enough to matter but the lightness in his heart was still there.

At sound of her exasperated reply Jaime couldn't help but chuckle, he loved the sound of her voice in moments like these. He loved the way her blue eyes would flash with irritation and then soften when they discovered yet another thing they had in common. He loved being on the receiving end of one of her rare smiles.

He loved...Seven save him, he loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll be back to Brienne's POV to wrap this all up.


End file.
